Secured to a high-backed chair, Michael Reynolds was going insane, slowly but inevitably insane, and the most terrible part of it was that he knew it. Since the last forced injection, ther had been nothing he could do about the relentless on-set of his madness. The more he struggled to ignore the symptoms, the more acutely he became aware of them, the deeper into his mind dug those fiendish chemical claws that were tearing his mind apart...

RELEASE NOTES:

Bakje van de metro in de fietserstunnel, vlakbij kaartautomaat